Vent
by alphabetabuse
Summary: A take on Killua's thoughts in one of the most intriguing moments in the Chimera Ant Arc, when Gon tells him off, saying, "It's so easy for you. You're perfectly calm, because you don't care." [ONE-SHOT] Rated T for language.


_A/N: I haven't written in a long, long time. This is just a short piece based on what I think is one of the golden moments in the Chimera Arc so far: the moment when Gon actually tells Killua that he's too indifferent to react properly to the situation. Since Killua never had the chance to retaliate in the series, here's an interpretation of what may have happened between Killua's leave-taking from Gon and Pitou, and his ensuing battle with Youpi. These are mainly musings, but I hope you enjoy it. _

VENT

To Killua, death had never been anything significant. He had never feared it nor desired it. It was simply something inevitable, a fixed fact, and, in the life that he had never had the chance to choose, a constant possibility. He had never understood it beyond that.

Until Gon.

Before Gon, he had not known darkness or light. He knew shadow and illumination - that was strategy. He knew injury and healing - that was training. He knew life and death - that was business.

But darkness and light - that was, simply, Gon: when he was not there, when he was by Killua's side. Then, without his even realizing it, everything else followed: Gon became life, illumination, healing; anything else without became death, darkness, pain.

Before Gon, the only thing Killua had ever feared was failure, and that was not even for any higher cause than his own pride.

And Gon shattered that.

Pretty damn easily.

_"It's so easy for you. You're perfectly calm, because you don't care."_

In his rational head, Killua knew Gon did not mean it. He knew that his best friend was just overcome with rage at the fact that the Chimera could be so unhesitatingly ruthless, that a friend of his had been made to suffer so badly, that he could possibly lose the closest link he had ever had to his father in the most gruesome way imaginable.

And so Killua bit back the retort that built in his throat:

_Take it back, Gon. Believe in me, Gon. Trust _me.

_Gon..._

In another lifetime, before the Chimera Ants, before Greed Island, before the Heavenly Arena, before the Genei Ryodan, Gon would never have been able to say such a thing to him.

Yet Killua knew, across their travels together, how slowly and painfully Gon had made himself understand that there were severe limitations to the goodness that he had, all his life, sought in every living creature. The hardened edges of Gon's soul was an effect of so many burdens he had decided to carry with him, all the shocks, disappointments, and pains that he chose to bear because, to Gon, that was what it mean to live: to push forward in spite of grief, to _be_ despite disillusionment - to _rage _when rage was right.

That was why Killua, who had never valued life and thus never had to bear its weight, knew he would never be as strong as Gon, even if he exceeded him in every other respect.

It was precisely this weakness that ate at him now, as he stood before his best friend's violent fury and Neferpitou's irrelevant helplessness.

Even if Gon had completely misunderstood him, and he, on the other hand, understood everything perfectly, Killua felt a wretched tearing within him.

_So this is what it is to feel "hurt." Chik'so._

He wanted to kill.

He wanted to die.

And so he turned his back and left, knowing Gon would not stop him.

He followed the trails of wreckage and blood, trying to find something, anything, to rip to shreds with satisfaction. In the back of his mind, alarm rose at the amount of damage the Palace had taken in so short a time. But the damage to his pride was far more intense.

_That I should want the humiliation of begging you to understand... Damn you, Gon._

He felt his chest constrict.

_Take it back, you idiot._

Almost automatically, he switched on his _en _to try and sense any of his comrades as he tore through the rubbled hallways. But what guided him eventually was not even _nen_, but a huge explosion coming from the outer grounds and a terrible roar he could only assume was the monster Youpi. Without thinking, he changed direction towards the anticipated carnage.

_It's so easy for you. _

You assassin.

You killer.

You, who have never flinched at the sight of blood.

You, who have never had friends to lose.

Killua shook his head.

_Take it back, Gon. Please...!_

In his mind, he suddenly recalled the feeling of death in the caves of NGL: the warmth of his blood in a pool around him, sticky against his cheek, heavy and matted in the red-washed silver hair falling over his face. He recalled the cold, and the sheer relief of numbness...

Then he recalled Gon's face, in his dreams as he slept, and Gon's voice, on the phone when he woke: _Killuaaa!_

That hurt could only be premised on love was of little comfort. It was such a worthless thing, at a time like this.

_You do not care._

Indeed, having been so close to it, Killua was certain death would have its own pleasure.

He bit his lip until he tasted blood.

_Pathetic, Kil._

By the time, he found the large hole in the Palace Grounds, his pain and anger was ripe - not at Gon, of course, but at the sheer irrational desperation that rose up within him to hear Gon take back the words, if only for his own sanity. He understood that Gon's anger needed to be unleashed; as one who had grown up too fast and who virtually had no childhood to speak of, he also understood Gon's tendencies toward youthful impulse - quick, passionate, devastating.

And yet...

_Perfectly calm, am I?_

But of course Gon did not have Killua's terrible gift - that second nature embedded in him through years and years of torture and training, of never, _ever_ showing emotion.

_After all this time, must I insist on being misunderstood, Gon? To you, of all people, who made me understand myself more than anyone else ever has?_

He badly wanted to be on that blood-soaked floor, fading away from the world.

That, or rip a monster to shreds and save the world somewhere along the way.

_Be more than the assassin that you are._

It was not the time to use Godspeed or Whirlwind. But he saw immediately that the conditions required it, since Youpi had just soundly defeated two professional Hunters hardly lifting a finger, and, quite frankly, he could hardly fight without letting his own abilities take over his body.

He raised his hand and descended the slope in slow, careful steps, lightning beginning to flicker between his fingers. His voice spun a cool speech that concealed his shattered ego in eloquently articulated rage.

Initially, he had developed Godspeed because he saw its possibilities in saving himself, or Gon, when the need arose. He realized during that fight in the cave against the dartboard-playing Chimera Ants that he all too often lost track of his own body's capacity to function. He had developed it far beyond what he had thought possible as a child training in Kukuroo Mountain, but he had not had the time to estimate its limits properly, especially not against the new enemies' surprising levels of strength. He could still gauge his abilities with great accuracy, but his own body's deterioration throughout battles often dawned on him too late. If the time came that he could no longer fight and Gon needed help, Godpseed could give him one last chance to turn things around.

_Meanwhile, Whirlwind..._

_Whirlwind is...for moments like this. _

_When I have no will to live, but I must fight._

He charged, a flood of _nen_ launching him forward. His fist connected with a resounding crash and a sharp crackle of burnt skin.

Youpi let out a surprised grunt.

Biske had been right, of course. Killua was not an indifferent or emotionless fighter; he often feared and struggled with himself. Illumi had made sure he lost enough confidence in his own fighting to always pursue better and better techniques. Even if he often acted self-assured, he was never too complacent. Moreover, through so many challenges he had faced with Gon, he had learned, more than ever, to gauge his own limitations. He still struggled with it greatly. But fighting with Whirlwind made him lose all his inhibitions, made him surpass his own abilities, made him more-

_More._

_More...!_

Killua shook all the thoughts out of his head and focused on the charged air rushing past his body. He needed to stabilize himself in the volatility of combat, center himself on the sheer joy of the torrent of _nen_ in his muscles, the fury that raged in his chest.

_More._

_Hit him more._

_Don't give an inch-_

Because part of him wanted so badly to be slammed into the ground and beaten to a pulp, that he just might not move to resist again.

He had been so keenly conscious of how much he had changed, of how far he had come from being the passionless assassin he had been raised to be. _The things I never would have done..._

Eat fish. Feel joy. Love -

_- the things I never would have feared -_

Losing Gon. Kurapika. Leorio -

_You've changed me so much, Gon, I don't know who I am without you. _

Was he to bear the humiliating accusation that he was the only one who saw it all?

He slammed another kick against the side of Youpi's body. If he hadn't been using a small fraction of his _nen_ on _ten_, each contact would have injured him more than it fazed the Royal Guard.

He whirled in the air, his own strength burning him from the inside.

_You fucker, take it back._


End file.
